Citizen clothes, in dress-suit cases, were deposited at the cadet store, and the two cadets, back in "spooniest" white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses, were soon speeding along the roads that led across the plain to where the other three classes were having their last day of summer encampment.
"Greetings, old ramrod!" called a low but pleasant voice, as First Classman Brayton hurried up, grasping Dick's hand.

Then Greg came in for a hearty shake.

Brayton, who had been a cadet corporal when the two boys from Gridley were plebes, now wore the imposing chevrons of a cadet captain.
"My, but I'm glad to see you two idlers return to a fair measure of work," laughed another voice, and Spurlock, whom Dick, as a plebe, had thrashed, pushed his right hand into the ceremonies.
Spurlock, too, was a cadet captain.

Other first classmen crowded in for these returning furlough men were popular throughout the upper classes.
"May a wee, small voice make itself heard ?" Dick and Greg half wheeled to meet another comer.

Little Briggs, a trifle less plump and correspondingly longer, stood before them, grinning almost sheepishly.
"Hullo, Briggsy!" cried Prescott, extending his hand, which the third classman took with unusual warmth.
"Being no longer a plebe, I enjoy the great pleasure able to address an upper classman before I'm addressed," went on Briggs.
"That's so, Briggsy," affirmed Greg.
Before going off on their furlough both had been compelled to regard Briggs as an unfortunate plebe, with whom it was desirable to have as little to do as possible.